


Blood of a Hero

by Ecipoe



Category: The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:53:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28706964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ecipoe/pseuds/Ecipoe
Summary: "You know," The woman with the dark hair says, "Father would be proud of you." She plucks a petal from the blue lily at her side. The petal flutters as it dances to land atop the soft grass. Link can't help but take a step towards her.She never looks at him.He doesn't know her. Does he?"My father?" He asks her. She laughs, a sound sad as rain at a wedding. She plucks another feathery petal. Link thinks he knows her fingers, but he is never sure. Goddesses, he is never sure.He takes another step, so close he could reach out and pinch her dark tresses between his fingers and-He wakes up.





	1. Chapter 1

"You know," The woman with the dark hair says, "Father would be proud of you." She plucks a petal from the blue lily at her side. The petal flutters as it dances to land atop the soft grass. Link can't help but take a step towards her. 

She never looks at him.

He doesn't know her. Does he?

"My father?" He asks her. She laughs, a sound sad as rain at a wedding. She pluks another feathery petal. Link thinks he knows her fingers, but he is never sure. Goddesses, he is never sure. 

He takes another step, so close he could reach out and pinch her dark tresses between his fingers and-

He wakes up.

There is a woman who calls to him. He knows this. She knows his name and whispers that she is waiting for him. This woman is not the one in his dreams. They have different voices.

Link wakes to birdsong. It is sunny, bright, and his stomach is empty. So is his pack. He has a dull blade salvaged from a nearby ruined house, an empty bag, a worn shield, and his wits.

So, he gets to it.

Hunting isn't hard with the proper supplies. Link does not have those. He settles instead to forage. Mushrooms, nuts, berries, a lizard. All things he manages to have in his bag before the sun hit its zenith and before his stomach begins crying out in earnest.

Link cannot shake the dreams. Even as he lights a fire and prepares a skewer for the reptile he found. He cannot shake the ghostly man. He cannot shake the voice that woke him from his long slumber. He ca not shake the dark hair of the woman he dreams about.

He cannot shake this lingering feeling that he has a duty.

So, he eats, and he goes on. There is chaos and he, surprisingly, knows his way around a weapon. He shocks himself with how familiar a hilt is in his hand. Studies the callouses and scars on his body when he is bathing alone.

Link knows little about himself. His name is Link. He has just awoken from a long slumber. His body is riddled with deep scars. He is dangerous.

Goddess, he knows he is dangerous. Feels it in his veins and the grit of his teeth. Sees it in how other people react to his stride.

"Father would be proud of you."

It echoes in his mind.

Who is he? How does she know?

Most importantly, how can he right the wrongs of this shattered world?


	2. Chapter 2

"You ever hear about the dragons?" The stable-owner's daughter asks Link as she sets a bowl of stew and a flagon of some hot spiced drink down on his table. It's amusing watching her stretch up on her toes to expertly set the dishes down. The child doesn't even spill a drop. Link's impressed.

He's been studying a map of the area kindly provided by the stable-owner. Another thing he has learned about himself, he can read. He has an education.

Link shakes his head in response to the girl. He's a bit busy for folktales.

She sighs dreamily and takes it as an invitiation to sit down and spill the tale. Much to Link's annoyance. He folds the map neatly and sets it aside.

"The stories say the dragons were once brave knights serving the old goddesses. When Hylia and the Three left this realm, the knights remained to protect what their Ladies loved. They became fierce dragons to watch over Hyrule. Isn't it a lovely story?"

Link finds he's never heard that iteration. He's heard a few things about the dragons here and there, but knights? No.

"That is an interesting story." Link confirms.

He then focuses his interest on the stew. The owner had warned that the food here tends to be quite spicy as they trade often with the Gorons. The smell itself is rich and hot. Delightful for a man as hungry as Link currently is. He scoops up a spoonful and-

The girl is talking again.

"It gets better! They say before the Calamity there were witch-girls who served as Attendents for the dragons! These girls trained in magic in the Order of Hylia to serve the dragons well, and keep them company, for a lifetime. Wouldn't that be magical? To live with a dragon and use magic and maybe it would let you ride on its back through the night sky so high you could touch the stars."

He doesn't know why he says it but,

"They wouldn't let you ride them. Too dangerous."

The girl's big brown eyes widen. 

"Do you know stories about the witch-girls, swordsman?" She gushes.

Link internally groans. He doesn't know anything. He just wants to eat his stew, and sleep the ache of battle off. He opens his mouth to tell her no, it was just a thought, when he realizes he doesn't know if he knows. For all Link knows, they could have existed. He is from before the Calamity, after all.

He just doesn't remember the truth.

Instead, he shovels a mouthful of soup into his mouth and uses it as a distraction to not speak. This does not seen to bother the girl much at all. She instead floats off into her fantasy land again.

"Papa says the dragons all represent one of the three virtues. I'd like Farosh, because I'm brave like he is. You seem smart mister, if you were a witch-girl I'm sure Naydra would pick you."

"Are you bothering our guest?" The stable-owner asks as he scoops the child up out of her seat. She giggle-shrieks as her father pinches at her sides and hoists her up on his shoulders. "No, Papa, I'm just telling Mister Swordsman about the dragon witch-girls!"

The man waggles a brow at Link.

"That is her favorite story. You know, one of my great great aunts was apparently one such witch. That was before the Calamity, of course."

"Of course." Link replies. 

The stable-owner looks at him for a moment before he says, "It's sad really, what has happened to the dragons. Naydra hasn't been seen for years. Farosh and Dinraal rage about, stopping for no man. The dragons used to serve a purpose. They used to protect Hyrule. Now they wander, aimlessly."

Naydra hasn't been seen?

"Historically, where has Naydra resided?"

"Why, Lanayru usually. Mount Lanayru if memory serves. It's been so unusually cold lately, though, that travellers haven't made the pilgrimage to the Spring of Wisdom to see Naydra."

"I see." Link replies. He mentally makes a checklist of his supplies and comes up lacking for the weather. It will have to wait, but he does want to investigate. A missing dragon. Something in his gut is screaming this is wrong. Something is very, very wrong, and he intends to find out what.


	3. Chapter 3

Her name is Riza Vyveria and she is awake.

Riza knows she should not be awake. She is supposed to be holding the door. She is supposed to be keeping him alive. She is awake, and something is telling her it is time to leave.

So, she kisses the coffin, and she leaves.

The world she finds is not the world she left. It is a sad remnant. A shadow. The ashes left after a campfire. But the stars are the same, and the flowers still bloom, and the Calamity has not taken everything.

This in it of itself is a victory. That Hyrule stands and that birds sing and that there is rain and sunshine is a victory.

The first place she goes is the Spring of Power. With all her magic, all her force and strength, Riza reaches her magic out and calls for him. She calls for the one who will wait eons for her.

'What is an eternity if not my existence?'

He had told her that when she left to hold the door. 

And so he must be waiting.

For two weeks, Riza camps out. Avoiding hordes of monsters, drinking rainwater, eating what edible flora is untainted, Riza calls. Her magic gleams off the statue of Hylia. And Riza's prayers go unanswered.

The second place she goes is Tabantha. Tanagar Canyon is deep and empty and something twists painfully in her chest. The stable owner does not ask her questions. Instead, the kindly woman welcomes Riza in. Riza, with hardly a rupee to her name. Riza, who trades a few scavanged, weathered items for meals. Riza, who sits on the grassy hill every night and watches.

She does not call his name after the third week.

He is not coming for her. 

So, she turns East.

Riza turns to the only ones who will remember her face. The Zora. Proud and strong, they remain. And when her feet find the smooth marble of Zora's Domain, Riza realizes her world is dead. It is dead when she looks up upon the man who was but a toddler days ago. It is dead when Sidon ushers her past the narrowed eyes of his own people. He tucks her neatly against him. One great, cool arm pressing her flush to his side and teeth bared with obvious intent.

This child is now a man large enough to engulf her. He is now all thick muscle and confidence.

For a moment, Riza is unable to understand that she is not welcome here. This was her home away from home as a child. How could she be unwelcome?

Riza's world comes to a screaming halt when she stands before the statue in town square.

Her fingers tremble, but she does not touch the base of the statue. Riza does not let it be solid. She does not let the world fall from under her as the realization hits.

"Where's your sister?" She instead whisper-asks.

Sidon, for all he has grown and is strong and brave, shies away from the question. Instead, he asks.

"Where is your brother?"

Riza supposes it's a fair response. She supposes it even as the horror sets in. Even as her knees crack on marble. Even as her field of vision narrows to the expression of the stone. 

Dinraal is not coming for his Attendant. 

Mipha is gone.

The Calamity has destroyed the world. She was just hopeful to think otherwise. Foolishly, childishly hopeful.


	4. Chapter 4

Link doesn't like the look of his hands. They make him squeamish with all the scars and thick calluses. He doesn't like these hands. These hands know blood. One look and he can tell, he was a man shaped by violence.

But he doesn't feel violent.

Link feels like sitting on a Necluda hill near sunset. He feels like watch the stars twinkle and the wind dance through the leaves. He feels like petting dogs and kneading dough and picking flowers.

He's a little afraid, if he's being honest.

He's a little afraid of how easily a spear's weight is balanced. A little nervous about the ease of drawing a bow. The fact that his body knows the heft of a claymore, and the way to angle his shield to keep flame and ice from splashing into his face. Link has these skills and he isn't sure he wants to know why.

He isn't sure he wants to know why the rest of his body is a map of ruined scar tissue.

But something about the girl who begs him to wake up is pushing him forward step by step towards this destiny Link does not want.

Something about the girl with the dark hair is telling him he has to fight.

So, Link shoulders his pack. He gathers his wits and his strength and he seeks out something, anything, to tell him who he was. What he is. What he should do.

He finds something in the Zora.

Maybe more than he wanted.

The rain is blurring is vision. Sweat and thick drops falling into his squinting eyes. The sky is so thick with clouds it is black. But he can still see clearly enough to see the shock on the face of the Zora man when he sees Link.

Link can still see well enough to see the grit of the man's too sharp teeth. The narrowing of his eyes. The way his body tenses like a threat even as he welcomes Link.

It confirms Link's theory that he was a dangerous man before his memories fled. 

Something itches in the back of his head. Some thought pacing around, just dancing out of reach. Effervescent. And Link can't get a grip on it. He's reaches for that itch, that fleeting feeling, and as soon as it came it's gone.

The Zora stares down at him, and grins. The tension does not drain from him, not completely, but enough to settle Link's churning stomach a little.

"Link! Is it really you?" The man says his name with such warmth. It shocks Link. No one knows him. No one recognizes him, but this Zora says his name like it's natural. Then,

"You're alone?"

Link's mind spasms around the question, reachung and stretching and snapping around nothing. Why wouldn't he be alone? Who would this Zora think should be with him? So he puts it away. The Zora is looking increasingly concerned at Link's silence. His pupils are blown wide in the dark weather, giving an even more monstrous illusion as his eyes flick from the worn blade Link is holding back to the man.

The Zora frowns. Link gathers himself and finally says the thing he knows he shouldn't.

"Who are you?"

The Zora instantly recoils. His frown deepens, hurt flashing in those big gold eyes. Then he sighs and straightens up. He flashes a great smile. 

"Of course you don't recognize me. It's me, Sidon!"

Sidon? Link's mind is once again a blank fog. Seeing the lack of response, the Zora swallows his hurt and moves on.

"No matter. I could use your help, if you're willing."

And Link is a good man. Dangerous, yes, but good. Or at least he wants to be. So, he asks.

"What do you need?"


	5. Chapter 5

"Attendant Vyveria, tell me what happened that day."

Riza is knelt before Great King Dorephan, and he is even taller and larger than before. It is like when she was a child and his footsteps made her ankles wobble. 

"I don't have answers for you, your Grace." The words come easy.

She does not have answers.

Riza is not an expert in Calamity Ganon. She did not study the tech. She did not read the runes. Riza did not even prepare for the battle. She is the Attendant to Dinraal. Her duty was clear. Serve the dragon. Protect the dragon.

She was not a Champion.

Riza, for all her stature as Attendant, was not there.

Dorephan is unsurprised by her reply. He leans back in his great throne and hums a low ear splitting sound. 

"Your Grace," Riza begins. She swallows her anxiety and steels herself. "Please tell me what has happened to Dinraal."

Sidon steps forward. "Dinraal has-"

"Another time." Dorephan interrupts. "There's more pressing business. Your brother, what of him?" 

Riza clasps her hands tight around each other.

This man knows what has become of Dinraal, and is bargaining. Her magic flares hot and angry in her chest, and were she untrained it would scald Sidon next to her. Instead, she reins it in.

"My brother has died." Riza spits the harsh truth. It stings her mouth to say. But is that not why she watched a coffin? To protect a corpse? A beloved corpse, but a corpse nonetheless.

Dorephan frowns. He sighs a deep rumbling sigh. 

"It is as I have been told, then." Dorephan says sadly. He rises to his feet. "Your brother made a promise to me, to my daughter, Attendant Vyveria. I assume you understand an oath is an oath."

"Of course, Grace. What did he promise?"

"Himself."

Riza's blood goes cold. She knew. Of course she knew. She had always known he would do this but-

He wasn't supposed to die.

"I see. An oath is an oath. I have sworn my life to the service of Dinraal, however, and cannot take a new oath."

"Father, she has just barely arrived, surely we can allow the Attendant to rest before bringing up such garish things." Sidon adds.

Dorephan blinks slowly, one eyelid over the other.

"The monster you seek has made his new home atop Death Mountain. The beast rampages nightly, adding to the dangerous unrest in Hyrule. I offer you a choice, Attendant. Stay, and keep the word your brother gave me, or go and serve your monster. I'll give you the night to decide."


	6. Chapter 6

"Hey, Link, do you think a life without love is worth living?"

The dream woman with the inky hair asks him. She never faces him, but raises her hand to the sky as if she could grab one of the very stars. The moonlight turns her dress and skin silver. He swears she is glowing.

"No, I don't." He replies. It isn't what he was thinking. Not really. But it's like a script has prepared itself, and so he is telling her. "You shouldn't do it." There's fear now. Why is he afraid?

The woman's shoulders tremble and she drops her hand to her side. She sucks in a shuddery breath.

"It must be nice, always being the loved one. Loved by everyone who lays eyes on you. Even if you don't know who you are, you're still loved."

Link swears he knows her voice. Who is she? How does he know her? Why is she crying? Always crying.

"Hey, Link, would you die for what you love?"

An unfair question, he thinks.

And some distant part of him tears the words from his throat.

"I already have."

He wakes up.


	7. Chapter 7

Riza and Sidon have scaled the beautiful archways of Zora's Domain and are sitting together in the rain.

It has rained for the past four days. A terrible, unnatural rain.

"Do you think it's her?" Sidon asks. And they both know he means Mipha. Is it his beloved sister making the beast drown this world?

Riza reaches out and manages to wrap her hand around three of Sidon's great fingers. She squeezes what she can of his hand.

"I don't know."

"Do you think it's because you're back?"

"I don't think Mipha and I were that close, Sidon."

"Of course. I shouldn't make assumptions. I just can't help but hope that she's alive in there, waiting."

His fingers dig against the cool stone beneath. Riza can feel the force behind it against her palm. The frustration. The sheer anger.

Is that what Dinraal is now? Anger? She had been taught in the Order that the dragons must not be without an Attendant. They must not be without a tie to their humanity. And, like Mipha, Riza had left. She had left for a duty she was told would be okay.

When she came back, he was not waiting.

"I don't think we get to control who waits for us." Riza says very gently. "But you're leaving to find him anyways, aren't you?" Sidon replies. 

She leans into his side. Cool muscle. A familiar soul even if his form is not. Riza tries to sync her breathing to his and finds she cannot. His lungs are so much larger and stronger. His heartbeat can be so much slower at times. Not at all the little guppy he was. 

She sighs. The rain has chilled her to the bone, and she is tired, and Riza wants to go home. 

"Yes. I'm going to Death Mountain."

Sidon tosses one great arm over her and draws her closer. Even with his cool blood he is still warmer.

"As your friend, I'm telling you not to go. There's word of eruptions. And monsters. Things are bad, Riza."

It is so easy to leave.

Riza will never be like Mipha. She will never be like her brother. It is going to be so easy to look at this place which was her home as a child, and leave.

"If you see my brother, take care of him."

"Always. He's family. You're family. You could stay."

"I have to go. I am an Attendant."

He squeezes her. It's meant to be gentle but sends the air whooshing past her lips.

"Just come visit sooner next time."

"No promises."


	8. Chapter 8

"You know," Sidon begins as he and Link are finishes preparations to storm Vah Ruta. "As a child I looked up to you. You were my hero. I know you don't remember much of anything, but I thought you should know that."

Link is restringing his bow as Sidon says it. His fingers waver.

"What-" He sucks in a breath. "What was I like?" Link asks.

Sidon looks over at Link from where he is attempting to attach arrowheads. 

"The epitome of a royal knight. You were brave and strong and had the best of hearts. But you spoke less than you do now. This is the first time we've really spoke."

Link takes it in.

He was all of those things. The bow he salvaged from the Lynel is worn in his hands. The wood is smooth from use. Heavy. A river rock.

"Your people blame me, you know." He tells Sidon. How could he be such a good knight? He let not one, but two princesses perish apparently. 

One who loved him. The Zora spit it at him like a weapon. Mipha loved him, how could he fail her? Did he love her too? How is supposed to know?

Sidon sighs. 

"Truthfully, in the anger of my youth I too blamed you. But I know, as do they, that Mipha would have done this even if it wasn't for you. It wouldn't have mattered if it was anyone else. She would do it every time. It is who my sister is."

Is.

"You think she's alive?"

"Against my better judgement, I have hope."

"Is it enough?"

Sidon laughs a bitter laugh.

"With you by my side, Link, it may be."


	9. Chapter 9

Her name is Riza Vyveria. She is one hundred and eighteen years of age. She is the daughter of Guard Captain Randyll and Lady Rizelle. She is a sorceress by birth. 

She is many things. Riza is a healer, a warrior, a devout worshipper of Hylia. She is an older sister to a much beloved brother.

And she is an Attendant to the dragon Dinraal.

So, she goes to Death Mountain. And though her feet blister in the new unworn shoes the Zora have provided, she walks. And though her stomach grips itself with hunger and fear, she walks. And though the air grows hot and dry, she walks. Because Riza is many things, and an oathbreaker is not one.

She is his Attendant.

She will always find him.

And by the Lady's holy hair, she does find him. Raging is too polite a word for what Dinraal has become. Riza watches as the once elegant, comforting sight of her dragon becomes a horror. 

The scorched earth around Death Mountain has little to do with eruptions. It has everything to do with the fire raining down from the great maw of a beast Riza once called a friend. 

By the Golden Ladies.

Riza looks at the destroyed land. Fields razed. Foundations of homes holding by charred timbers. It was only days ago that this was a thriving little community. Now, it is home to ash and gravel. And bones. Her stomach twists at the sight. Bones. Bones of children. Her mouth is dry. Riza feels sick. Everything in her says to turn and run. Only a true monster could burn children down to bones. It isn't safe.

But Riza is an Attendant.

She stays.

Dinraal curls in the air above her. He is accompanied by glowing flame ribboning across his scales so easily. The gold and red of his flaming mane is out of control flaring about his head and horns like an angry dandelion. He tosses his large head and she can finally see his eyes clearly.

His eyes.

Riza's blood goes cold.

Dinraal's eyes have never been so blank before.

She digs into herself, offers a prayer to Hylia. Please, Golden Lady, do not let this be a mistake. Riza reaches with her magic towards Dinraal. 

The dragon snaps in the air. His great eyes settle on her and a roar splits Riza's ears. She claps her hands over her ears as it brings her to her knees. Then, the beast shoots towards her. 

If this is to be the end, so be it. Riza has seen enough of the shattered world left behind by failure. She has seen enough bodies. She has heard enough of what became of her home.

The dragon slams to the ground. The earth bucks. Rock and dirt rain down from the very heavens with the force and Riza grips the charred earth for dear life. The beast roars again. The sound is so painful, so skull splitting.

Her mouth floods with metaI. Her eyes feel like they'll burst with the sound. Her bones rattle. Riza spits blood and dares to look up at the beast slinking towards her. His pupils narrow, focusing on her. All disdain. All careless.

"Dinraal." Riza manages his name around the blood. It occurs to her she has bit her tongue. The movement of his name gives the pain away. 

The dragon halts. He tilts his head. An oddly dislike behavior. The flames around him flicker curiously. 

Riza braves a step forward. She is once again reminded of how powerful the Dragons of Hyrule are when she realizes just one of his claws is more than her size. The beast rumbles the sound shakes Riza's chest.

She braves another few steps until she can touch said claw. He is so hot. So warm. Coated in flame and power and Riza's magic is only so much to protect herself against such strength. She reaches out, settles her hand against the dragon's knuckle. He exhales sharply. The force makes Riza sway, but she does not let go.

"It's time to go home, Dinraal." Riza tells him.

The dragon's mouth audibly opens and closes. He flicks his tongue over his lips. Then, magic washes over her. 

Lighting candles in the Shrine. Lotuses on water. Marble floors. The smell of incense. Choirs singing. Laughter echoing off empty walls. A question. A burning question. Grief. Empty halls. Unlit candles. Dusty cupboards. Overgrown roses. Silence seeping. Sorrow. Alone.

So much grief.

Riza is nearly floored with the sorrow that floods her. Dinraal rumbles again as Riza clings to his knuckle to keep from collapsing. Tears that she know aren't hers flood her eyes. Feelings that aren't hers drown her chest. 

"Yes," Riza gasps. She has to wipe blood from her mouth onto her sleeve before she continues. "Home." She confirms. The image of the candles and the marble and the lotuses burns brighter in her mind.

So, the bond between Attendant and Dragon isn't completely gone. It is raw, however, and Riza is sick with the unbridled pain of channeling the Dragon's magic.

The next question hits her with the force of an earthquake.

Long fingers braiding ink hair. A shared mug of spiced tea. Spear to spear, the sound of wood clashing. Neatly manicured nails tracing scales. The armor of a knight. A woman's laugh in another room. Eyes gleaming with divinity. His name in a woman's voice. Fading portraits. Rose bushes.

Dinraal makes a softer sound this time. A clicking noise. He brings his snout suspiciously close and breathes in deep. Riza has to hold her hair back to keep it from being breathed into the dragon's snout.

"It's me." Riza confirms.

The tension melts like snow in spring. 

As do the scales and weight.

And soon, the Dinraal she knows is standing before her. All ten feet and red waves and gleaming gold eyes. His skin is still peppered with sunset coloured scales. He still wears the same tunic. The same trousers. The same rings and necklace and earrings.

He is still Dinraal.

Feral, sharp toothed and hurt in his heart, but still Dinraal.

"Riza," He breathes her name so easy. It is the only word he can find. The only word he has focused on. Then, he reaches for her, and she flinches back. Dinraal recoils as if struck at that. Hurt flashes in his eyes. 

And then he rips into their bond to find answers.

Riza doubles over at the psychic pain of Dinraal's careless rooting about. He pulls images from her like turning a book's pages.

Scorched bones. Burning in the sky so bright it is as if there was another sun. Riza, knelt in the Spring of Power calling his name. The remains of ranches and villages. Zora's Domain and the rain and Sidon.

Link's bloodied body being carried at her side by Impa and the others. Her fingers twined with his. Both cold. The monster on the horizon raging. Link's body being lowered into his tomb. Riza, taking her place at the tomb.

Dinraal lets go at the last one.

He reaches out again, stops short.

She is bleeding. Dinraal's nostrils flare at the scent. Unmistakable. The blood of his Attendant. His fault. What is the word? How does he say it? Dinraal brings his fingers to his own lip in sympathy. He traces where the blood is smeared on Riza on himself. A mirror.

"It's okay." She tells him.

It is so like Riza to understand. She would understand him no matter what, he knows. She is his Attendant. He is so proud she is his. 

And-

"I forgive you. Let's go home, Dinraal."

He isn't alone in this ruined world. Not anymore. Not like his brothers are.

He lets his Attendant do what she is here to do, tend to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Listen....listen.....all the dragons get human forms I dont make the law I just follow it


	10. Chapter 10

"How has your training been?" Mipha asks politely. 

Honestly, Riza is a little glad she is at least breaking the silence. Riza hasn't seen her brother in months, and of course he has said nothing. Maybe it's how she's wearing her hair now, like the painting of mother. Maybe it's the Attendant's attire.

Maybe it's Dinraal towering over her at her side.

Riza exhales in relief because Mipha, sweet Mipha, is still looking at Riza like she always has.

"It's gone exceedingly well, Princess." Riza replies. And were things as they were a year ago, she would have never uttered the honorific. Riza would have never bent her knee the way she is now. Before, Mipha was royalty, but she was friend first.

Now.

Now Riza is an Attendant and her brother is the sacred Hero and that thought twists her gut. He looks so different. There's something on his chest, she can see it. Weight on his bones, on his mind. Did he always frown like that? Did he always stand like that? Like something dangerous.

Link still won't look at her.

"That's wonderful news! Link, did you hear that?" Mipha asks. Link grunts as he fully turns on his heel and stalks across the bridge to the domain.

On her right, Riza can feel Dinraal's skin crackle with heat. His rage snaps through their new bond fast and hard, bringing Riza to her knees with a crack. She reaches out and clutches the leg of his robe at last moment, nails digging into the fine silk as she manages,

"Dinraal." 

His name hissed through her teeth.

The anger saps from their bond. He does not reach for her. They are not friends. She is his servant, and Dinraal is clear about that.

Perhaps, he is a little ashamed at his juvenile rage. He must do better. He must be better. Humanity, not beast.

Mipha is so polite. So kind. She doesn't mention the fall, instead she surges forward. One cool hand grips the bottom of Riza's elbow, and Mipha helps her to her feet. A princess, lifting up an Attendant, shame floods Riza's stomach.

And there, walking down the bridge, is her brother barely looking over his shoulder.

"My, it must have been a long journey. Let's get you some rest, Riza." Mipha says so gently. Gentle, kind Mipha. She takes Riza's hand and begins leading her into the domain.

Riza feels like her chest is going to split.

What happened?

When they were children, the three of them were inseparable. When it was just Riza and Link, they were unstoppable. His hands used to be the same size. They used to be the same. They used to eat the same foods, laugh at the same jokes, play the same games. 

Father used to say how they were like one of those trees, the same tree trunk splitting off. Riza used to cry thinking about being something different. Link had always been her best friend. Her brother. The echo of her heartbeat. 

But he was more.

He's all that's left of mother.

Even when Riza's magic came in, Link and her were close. That was right before he found the sword. Or rather, she found him, the woman he said led him to the blade that seals the darkness.

Was that when things changed?

"You are bleeding." Dinraal murmurs at her side. And he is right. All her feelings, her confusion and hurt with her brother, are flooding through their bond. Riza's ears burn with embarrassment. She knows better. An Attendant must be aware and disciplined. 

"Forgive me. I will do better."

"I know." Dinraal replies. Riza isn't sure if he is sharp because she has failed his expectations, or if it is simply his temper again.

If Mipha hears Dinraal's comment, she says nothing.

After a moment, Dinraal offers,

"Your home is beautiful, Princess." 

Riza has never heard him attempt pleasantries before. They are not like the Herald of Power. He sees no point in such games, and has told her such. But it is a strained kindness nonetheless. 

"Thank you, Your Excellency." She replies a little terse for Mipha. Riza pulls her hand from the princess's and returns to Dinraal's side as they enter the Domain fully. The sound of a distant harp echoes of the polished stone beautifully. Somewhere, Riza hears children laughing and the pattering of tiny feet running. 

"The inn is just ahead to the right. I've arranged for two rooms. They should be ready for you by now. I'll send for food as well." Mipha tells them.

"Only one room is necessary." Dinraal replies levelly. 

Mipha blinks. 

"Only one?" She repeats while looking pointedly at Riza.

Dinraal folds his arms across his chest and settles into his hip. Riza can feel his patience thinning. She floods him with soothing energy. Gentle kind reassurances that do little to staunch Dinraal's annoyance.

"I will not be seperate from my Attendant, Princess." Dinraal manages to resemble politeness through his annoyance. 

He does not owe any of these mortals an explanation. He is the Warrior of Din. He is the Herald of Power. He answers to no man or woman.

Riza reaches a hand out and lays it on his elbow.

'I know,' her touch seems to say, 'I am here'.

"Just one room, please, Mipha." Riza murmurs. Mipha nods. "I'll make it happen. Now please, make yourselves at home. My father will see you in the evening."

So, Dragon and Attendant awkwardly make their way to their room. Dinraal crackling with annoyance the whole time.

"What is it?" Riza finally asks when they've closed the door to the upstairs suite.

Dinraal turns on his heel, all flame and gold eyes. Embers spark from his nose as he exhales.

"It's humid." He spits. Riza nods. "And cold. Clammy. My scales ache. Why must I accompany you for this? Surely, my seal would be authority enough? And these odd little pastries," Dinraal is waving around some rice flour cake he found waiting on a tray. "Shaped like little fish? And yet smells sweet like honey." He snarls.

Riza sighs. He isn't lying. She can feel discomfort clear as day. Her own skin itches and aches in sympathy.

"I'll see if they have any heat elixir for your scales."

"My scales! Riza, my scales will be fine. Of course, I won't say no to that, but the worst part is that brother of yours."

She stiffens.

Dinraal is well and truly angry now. Flaming around his head, hair a halo of fire.

"Who does he think he is treating my Attendant so poorly? The sacred hero? No knight would treat a lady with such disdain. I should like a few words with that boy." Dinraal snarls.

It's now or never. He's close to making a choice.

"Leave it. It's between me and him."

Dinraal raises a brow. Smoke billows from his nose as he exhales. He gestures for her to continue.

"He's my brother. My problem. I'll handle it. You have enough to do, Excellency."

Dinraal hums.

"Then keep it your problem. Keep stinging me with it and I will step in, understand?"

"I understand."

"Now about that heat elixir,"

"Okay, okay, I'll go ask."


	11. Chapter 11

Riza is tending to Dinraal's many, many injuries when they both feel it. 

A shift. A gut wrenching shift. It seems to bring the world itself to its knees. Something in Dinraal wails, rattling his bones and Riza's hands where they are connected to him.

They have just returned to the Shrine in Tabantha. Just barely begun the process of cleaning out hundred year old cobwebs. Riza must address the rodent problem quickly if they're to stay.

But this shift.

This shift has a name.

It is a birth. A rebirth. Something dragon and attendant feel burning in their chests. A name forms on Dinraal's tongue, but he is still so raw to say it. Instead, he curls around her. Dinraal trembles. A soundless scream carries from his chest, the choking sensation pressing his ribs out, out, out.

Then he is crying.

Riza does not know what to do with this. This is not her Dinraal. He was never so vulnerable. But she holds him back, lets the man fall apart and hold onto her for dear life, and knows something is greatly wrong. Or right.

All she did was touch him. All she did was place the flat of her palm to his chest. And for Riza, she has done this every day for a year, for Riza it has only been a few weeks of searching for him.

For Dinraal it has been longer.

His hands are strong and he presses bruises into her arms as he clutches her. Ancient Hylian, the kind Riza struggled with in the Order, spills from him in incoherent babbles. 

It is so hard to seperate the yolk of beast from the man.

"It's okay, I'm here." Riza manages. She attempts to rub soothing circles against his heartbeat, but is squished so tightly to him her hands won't move. Dinraal's tears burn. Physically burn. She can hear the sizzle as they fall onto her cloak.

Hylia, preserve them.

Dinraal is all bone. All height and elegance. And so to have him curled so tightly against that lean-ness. To hear the creaking of his skeleton. Riza's own chest tightens sympathetically. 

She doesn't know how long they sit like that. The candles long die out and still he trembles and pulls her close, even as her limbs go numb. Riza doesn't know how long Dinraal mutters in the oldest tongue. Time doesn't really matter either way. Not with such grief. And when he grows tired of grief, the man scoops her up and carries her to the nearest comfortable surface. Dinraal sets Riza down, watches her with big gold eyes, and expects her to sleep soundly.

He barks out some command. Something she cannot understand. But the meaning is well enough. Get some rest, there's work to do. 

So, she rests, and dreams of her brother and how his blood had stained the water in the shrine red.


End file.
